Twisted Sanity
by guacamole lover
Summary: Annie didn't think this school would be any different: she would keep her head down, ignore the whispers, and make knots with her short piece of rope. Just like always. If it wasn't for a certain green eyed boy, everything would have been perfectly normal. Then again, normal wasn't usually a word used to in correlation to her. -High School AU, includes all the characters
1. Chapter 1

_Annie POV:_

By the age of sixteen, I had learned many things: ninety nine percent of people were useless energy drainers, clothes always fit better unwashed, lasagna must be eaten with garlic bread, and people will always question the sanity of a girl making knots with a fraying piece of rope. But for all my gained knowledge about the world, I didn't have a clue what to do when a semi attractive boy was staring at you.

He was sitting directly across the waiting room, hands buried in his jean pockets, head tilted sideways as he examined me. It wasn't in a creepy way; at least, I didn't feel violated. It was more like he was studying me.

He was tall, and fairly good looking with his bronzed hair and patrician features, but the only thing I really noticed about him was an ugly sunburn on his right arm. It was blistered and red and only spanned from his shoulder to his elbow, somehow leaving the rest of his skin perfectly tanned. I didn't understand how he had done it. Patchy sunscreen application? Bad luck? A tank top and evening gloves?

Unfortunately, I caught his eye. He gave me a crooked smile.

I began wishing my previous teachers had taught us about social cues instead of things we'll never use in real life, like how much it costs to buy forty discounted watermelon at the grocery store. Then again, I had never had a boy stare at me before, so perhaps teaching social cues would have been baseless, too. Maybe they should just teach us about avoiding clowns.

" _What on earth made you think she could transfer here?"_

Principal Snow's closed office door did nothing to muffle the shouting match going on between him and my social worker, Effie. It didn't help that the door looked to be made of flimsy cardboard, but perhaps the conversation would have been harder to overhear if they weren't bellowing at the top of their lungs.

"May I remind you that this is a public school?" Effie's voice was high and squeaky, the way it always was when she argued with people about me: teachers, foster parents, therapists. "There is no reason why she can't transfer. I don't see you banning any other students from starting class!"

The sunburned boy raised a questioning eyebrow and jerked his head at the cardboard door. " _You_?" he mouthed.

No, Stupid, they're talking about the other deranged teenager waiting outside. I looked away, down at the rope in my hands. It was twisted into a complicated knot that had taken me months to learn, but all it took was for me to tug sharply on both ends of the rope for it to unravel and become straight again. I busied myself with making a slipknot.

"Yes," said Principal Snow in an exasperated tone, "because my other students are, well, normal. I've read this girl's record, and she's...not," he finished lamely.

I wondered how much time it had taken him to figure that out. A girl in ratty jeans and an old shirt, clutching a rope, sitting outside a principal's office and waiting for her social worker to finish up a screaming match. That, and her record stated she was placed in the psych ward two years ago for 'violent, uncontrollable behavior.'

I summoned up an image of the principal.

It must have taken a long time.

The sunburned boy had finally looked away. He was gazing with a thoughtful expression at the door.

Effie sounded scandalized. "If you have read her record, then you are perfectly aware of the circumstances—"

"SHE...IS...UNSTABLE!"

Each word was punctuated by a fist being pounded against a desk. I gave up trying to make a knot and clamped my hands over my ears, wishing the door wasn't made of cardboard and the principal didn't have such a loud voice and that the world didn't suck so much. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want–

The door burst open and Effie stormed out, one hand clutching the strap of her pink purse tightly. She drew up short at the sight of me. The door slammed shut behind her. "Annie?" she asked in a gentle voice, much different than her high pitched one. "Annie, are you all right?"

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to sob. I wanted to beg Effie to take me out of this stupid school and bring me to Baskin Robbins, the place she always took me when I was forced to move homes or schools, or when she found me sleeping on park benches or when I was an inconsolable mess and screaming and sobbing on the floor. The place she took me to when–

The door swung open again and Principal Snow emerged. He, too, pulled up short when he saw me.

"See?" he hissed in what was probably supposed to be a discreet manner. He gave her a look that was half exasperated, half indignant. She scowled at him and knelt down in front of me.

"Are you all right?" Effie asked again.

Deep breath. Another. In and out. Slowly, I managed a nod. To prove my point, I removed my hands from my ears and placed them in my lap, letting them go back to fiddling with the rope.

Principal Snow wasn't done yet. "You see, this completely proves my point. She–"

Effie stood up, cutting him off. "Are you her doctor?"

He batted the question away. "Of course not."

"Are you her guardian?"

"What kind of a question–"

"Are you her social worker?" Effie's voice was deadly low.

There was silence. "If you are not her doctor," she said, "then you have no right to diagnose her. If you are not her guardian, then you have no say in what she can and cannot do. And if you are not her goddamn social worker, then you had better sit your ass down and let me do my job."

More silence. It was broken by the sunburned boy giving a laugh poorly muffled by his hand. This distracted the principal, who started and spun toward him. "Mr. Odiar! What are you doing here?" he snapped.

The sunburned boy shrugged. "Apparently having nine unexcused absences in a month gets you sent to the office for a reprimand. Between you and me, I'm happy to tell Mr. Undersee that you gave me a stern lecture and be on my way."

" _Nine_ –"

"Can we return to the issue at hand?" Effie interrupted.

"Yes-fine-Finnick-I mean, Mr. Odair-get to class. Now," Principal Snow said, sounding incredibly flustered.

Finnick flashed a peace sign and stood up. "Thanks, Cor," he said. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and winked at me. "Nice rope," he said, and then he was gone.

I frowned after him. What did he want from me? First the staring, and now he was complimenting my rope? It had even sounded sincere.

I was so lost in thought, I only half paid attention to Effie and Principal Snow, who were now conversing at a normal volume. I got the gist of it, though. I would be allowed to transfer and begin classes, but it would come with terms: Instead of going to the cafeteria, I would spend my lunch hour at the new school counselor's office, presumably so she could observe me and make sure I wasn't going to have a psycho melt down in one of my classes-this had happened on three separate occasions at different schools. It was also the reason I was forced to move. I would also not participate in after school activities. Finally, I would not take the bus to or from school.

Effie threw a fit at the last one, but I didn't really mind. My new apartment was only eight blocks away. I could handle it.

They left me alone for a few minutes to go sign some paperwork. When they came back, Effie knelt down in front of me and took one of my hands in her her own. I resisted the urge to pull away. _This is Effie,_ I reminded myself. _Effie._

"I'm going to go now, all right?" she said. "If there's any trouble, you call me." Principal Snow cleared his throat. She rolled her eyes. "If you ever get overwhelmed, you can go to the school counselor's office. Okay?"

I must have nodded, because the next moment she had given me a quick peck on the cheek and stood up. She gave a stiff nod to Principal Snow and left. Her three inch heels clicked as she walked down the hallway outside.

Principal Snow gave a heavy sigh and muttered something under his breath. He paced back and forth. Straightened his white tie. Took several deep breaths. "Annie," he finally said. He sounded as though the very sound of my name caused him disgust. "You may collect your new schedule and map of the school from my secretary. If you hurry, you should make it in time for third period."

I nodded and stood up. I slung the new backpack Effie had got me last year-to celebrate my sixteenth birthday-over my shoulder, wound my rope several times around my wrist, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Miss Cresta?" he called after me.

I turned back around. His eyes were narrowed as he took me in. "I'm sure you're used to not being...quite up to standard, but please try to not make it that obvious. Do I make myself clear?"

I swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. "Yes, sir," I said. ""Crystal."


	2. Chapter 2

**Shoutout to those who followed/favorited! Thanks guys, I love you. :)**

 **EffieTrinket101; EmberLex; MyNightmaresAreMyDaydreams; doraviolet1**

 **Response to reviews:**

 **MyNightmaresAreMyDaydreams:**

 ** _Aw, thank you! :) I'm glad you liked the story. (Lol, I'm super obsessed with the Hunger Games fandom right now, so I'm basically just spending nanowrimo on writing HG fan fiction like this one)_**

 **EffieTrinket101:**

 ** _Yeah, I couldn't picture anyone but Effie as the social worker when I wrote this story. I mean, she did spend the whole series as basically a glorified babysitter, so it just kinda works. I'm also super excited to write the Odesta element of the story, 'cause I just love shipping them together. *Fangirl squeal!* :) Hopefully I do it justice!_**

 **doraviolet1:**

 ** _Glad you find it interesting ;) I present to you the next chapter. Enjoy._**

 **Chapter 2:**

 _Annie POV:_

I didn't see Finnick in any of my morning classes. Despite that, I couldn't shake him from my mind. Every time I caught myself thinking about him, I angrily pushed the thoughts away. Thinking about some random boy wasn't going to help me get through the day-or anything else. He wasn't even that remarkable! I mean, aside from his odd sunburn, or his bronzed hair, or the way his athletic body moved...I caught myself once again and scowled.

The bell for fourth period rang, startling me so much I jumped in my seat and nearly knocked over my new math textbook. Thankfully, most of the class was too absorbed in stampeding to the door to notice, though I did hear a few snickers. I ignored them.

The hallways were flooded with students going to the cafeteria. Instead of following the crowds, I pressed myself close to the wall and went the opposite direction, following the route that would instead lead me to the school counselor's office. It was on the opposite side of the building. Once there, I took a deep breath, ran my fingers over my newest knot, and pushed open the door.

The room was an explosion of...well, everything. Three walls were painted with hopping bunnies, smiling tulips, and kittens playing with yarn, all under the twenty six letters of the alphabet, which were painted in large and blocky font. The fourth wall was occupied by a large pink and white bookshelf. From the covers of the books displayed, I could tell they were extremely fascinating: Magic Tree House, Bunnicula, and Picklemania were just a few of the wide selection of challenging reads.

Most of the floor was taken up by a large red rug with seating squares, all of which had-what a surprise-a letter of the alphabet inside it. Several plastic bins were tipped over on the ground, spilling toys onto the rug. Maybe this school was different than the other dozen I've been to, but last I checked, most high schoolers didn't enjoy playing with Thomas the Train and Company.

There was a small kitchen behind a counter on one side of the room, and behind it, a short hallway that held three doors. They were closed, but I could guess based on this room that they were either packed with string cheese and juice boxes or had small cots for nap time.

As much as I hated being transported back to my kindergarten classroom, it was one of Principal Snow's conditions that I come here for lunch each day. One hour. One hour of looking at suspiciously cheerful bunnies and singing the alphabet.

Instead of sitting on the rug and playing with Thomas, I chose to sit with my back against the wall, on the regular carpet, and start a turk's head knot. It's a fairly complicated one, and I was so absorbed in the task that nearly twenty minutes had passed before I remembered I was supposed to be meeting with the counselor. No sooner than the thought crossed my mind than one of the doors opened and a woman stepped out.

Her back was to me. It was bent over at an awkward angle, presumably because of the large and heavy box she held in her arms. I kept my back to the wall and stood up, waiting for her to notice me.

She did. When she turned around and saw me, her eyes widened in surprise and she dropped the box. It fell to the floor with a loud thunk that made the ground shake and tipped over, spilling out several thick books. I flinched at the noise and made my hands go faster. _Focus on the knot,_ I chanted silently. _The knot, the knot, the knot._

The woman was younger than I expected, maybe in her mid twenties. Her hair was dark, glossy, and perfectly straight, with several streaks of gold highlights.

I wondered how she had gotten it so straight. It was so different than my own hair, which couldn't seem to decide whether it was straight or curly. The result ended up being a dark, tangled mess that hung down my back like dead seaweed.

"Sorry!" the woman gasped. "You startled me!" She bent down and quickly gathered the books up. They were different than the ones on the shelf. Instead of 'Cinderella' and 'Smile,' there was 'Harry Potter,' 'The Fault in our Stars' and 'Vampire Diaries.'

Effie would have told me it was proper etiquette to go and help, but I stayed where I was, just watching.

The woman's hair was swinging back and forth like a curtain of black silk as she moved. I was just deciding she must have used a flat iron when she dumped the books on the bookshelf and stood up with a triumphant smile.

"Hello," she said cheerfully. "You're Annie, right? Principal Snow said you'd be stopping by."

Principal Snow had probably said a lot more, but I chose not to comment on that.

"I'm Portia," the woman continued, and then held out a hand. "Current school counselor." I just stared at her outstretched hand, unwilling to move forward and shake it like I was supposed to. Like Effie would have told me to. Instead, I hid my hands behind my back.

Portia didn't seem fazed. "Coffee?" she called over her shoulder as she crossed the room to the kitchen and pointed to a full pot of coffee.

She was offering me coffee? What kind of school counselor offered high school kids coffee in the middle of the day?

"No thanks," I said carefully.

"Thank god," she said, relief evident in her voice. "I hate smelling it when people have some. And drinking it. It's a disgusting beverage, really."

I frowned. "Then...why do you have a full pot of it?"

She looked sheepish. "All the other teachers have one. I thought it might make me seem more professional. Have you had lunch?"

I hadn't. But since I didn't like to eat in new places, I just nodded. She shrugged, then reached into the fridge and withdrew a Coke and a large baloney sandwich, which she immediately took a large bite of. With her mouth still full, she said something that sounded like "Saurhy 'ou eis."

"Um...what?" I asked.

Portia swallowed, then waved a hand at the room. "Sorry about this. I just got here a couple days ago and haven't had time to fix it." She snorted. "If I knew who the last school counselor was, I'd kick her arse for making you kids sit in a room with twirling rabbits on the walls. I've only been here two days and I'm already going crazy." She pushed herself up onto the counter and sat cross legged as she took another bite of her sandwich.

I stared at her. Most adults who read my file didn't use that word around me. They talked to me like I was a bomb ready to explode, one that was just waiting to be set off. It was as if they were walking on eggshells around me. And here this woman was, sitting on a kitchen counter and eating a sandwich while she threw out words like 'crazy.'

"Anyway," Portia said after she had swallowed an impossibly large bite of bread and meat. "Big C says you're gonna hang here at lunch. You good with that?"

"Big...C?"

"Corinolaus Snow," she said in a dramatically deep voice, then grinned. "I tried calling him that to his face, but he threw a big hissy fit. So now I can only call him that behind closed doors. Cookie?" She held out a tin filled with flower shaped sugar cookies, all frosted with the most meticulous detail I had ever seen. They were beautiful. I didn't want to touch something so pretty, though, so I shook my head.

She shrugged again and took a small pink one that was shaped like a tulip, ate it in two bites, and then downed half the Coke. I wondered how she managed to eat so much and still fit into the lime green skinny jeans she had on.

The rest of the hour was spent with me sitting on the floor and tying knots while we talked. Well, Portia talked. A lot. I mainly just nodded every few minutes so she knew I was still listening. And for once, I was.

I learned that she was twenty five, Asian American, loved food, and was obsessed with vampires. Apparently she was an expert on any and all stories, tv shows, and movies that had anything to do with one of the blood drinking creatures.

"Did you know there could be such a thing as vegan vampires?" she asked, to which I replied in the negative. "They can drink coconut water instead of blood," she explained, "but they can't use their powers without blood. Most vampires would view drinking coconut water as a last resort, because it's not really living, it's more like drifting along with no purpose. The blood is what really makes them complete."

At the end of the hour, Portia grabbed a book and pressed it into my hand. "Twilight," she explained. "It's one of my favorite books. Will you read it?"

I looked at the cover, which featured a pair of pale hands cupped around a crimson apple. "Um...maybe," I replied uneasily. I didn't like to fully commit to things. It usually made my hands start to sweat whenever I did.

She sent me off with a cookie-which she had practically forced into my hand and wouldn't let me return-and a promise that she would fix 'this cursed nursery' as fast as she could.

Once I was out of sight, I slipped the cookie into a spare ziplock bag in my backpack and tucked it carefully away for later. I never knew when I might need to start saving up food.

Flavius and Venia had seemed nice enough when I met them, but that was when Effie was hovering over us. Without her by me, I didn't know how reliant I could be on them for meals. Better to be prepared.

* * *

Flavius and Venia's apartment was almost twenty minutes away from school. I couldn't ride the bus-courtesy of, as Portia called him, 'Big C'-but I would have chosen to walk anyway. Even if it was below freezing, it was worth it to not be crammed on a bus with fifty other people. It was the end of November, and since I had forgotten my coat, the cold bit into my skin like...well, like a vampire's teeth. By the time I reached the apartment, I couldn't feel my face, hands, or feet. The only reason I was still able to hold my rope was because my hand was frozen in a grip around it.

Flavius opened the door for me when I knocked ("Do come in, darling, you look half frozen!") and ushered me into the living room, where Venia was painting her nails a vibrant gold.

"Oh, hello," she said distractedly when she saw me. "My apologies, dear, but I have a date in two hours and I'm simply rushing to make it on time." She brushed a line of gold onto her right thumb with all the speed of a snail. "Now, come sit down at tell me about your day. Did you make any new friends?"

Venia turned out to do most of the talking. After I told her what classes I had, she launched into a narrative about her own high school days, which somehow led to her going to get her hair done, and then to her saying what a big mistake it was to think purple looked good on her. ("I'm getting my hair tips dyed turquoise as soon as I can'-which I took to mean 'as soon as the check for housing and feeding you arrives.'

"Now, dear," she said, setting aside her gold nail polish after finishing a story about her first girlfriend, "tell me: are there any certain someones that have caused your heart to start pounding?" She leaned forward eagerly.

For whatever reason, an image of the boy with the sunburn-Finnick Odair-popped into my mind. It was right when he winked at me, when his bronze hair was perfectly messy and he was swinging his backpack over his shoulder, his arm muscles contracting-

"No," I said firmly. "No one."

* * *

Flavius and Venia both left before dinner. Venia was on a date with the curly haired woman who had picked her up a couple hours after I got back. Flavius had left shortly after her, promising that he would be back by ten and that I shouldn't wait up for him.

At ten, I was alone.

At eleven, I was alone.

At midnight, I brushed my teeth, picked up the book Portia had lent me, fastened my rope into a bracelet and slipped it onto my wrist like I did every night, and climbed into bed. Alone.

My fingers traced the crimson apple on the cover of 'Twilight.' It was so red. Such a deep, deep red. It was the exact color of blood. The color was so real I thought it would bleed out onto my hands.

At the thought, I quickly dropped the book and lifted my hands into the light of my bedside lamp, feeling relief when there wasn't a drop of red anywhere on my skin.

"Good," I whispered shakily to myself. "It's hard to wash out blood. Too hard."

The lamp clicked off, and I was left in darkness.

* * *

 **I think someone's getting a little bit of a crush...Finnick was only mentioned in this chapter, but rest assured, the next chapter will contain him in the flesh. It will also include some silly Finnick** **flirting, of course. It's kind of a package deal. :) BTW, I'm totally open to constructive criticism, so feel free to give advice. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to Camillie103 for favoriting :)**

 **MyNightmaresAreMyDaydreams:**

 ** _Thank you! As always, I appreciate your support. ;)_**

 **Camillie103:**

 ** _Glad to hear it's an interesting story...enjoy the chapter!_**

 **doraviolet1:**

 ** _I had a super fun writing day, which is why I got chapter 2 out so quickly. NaNoWriMo is really great for motivation! And yes, about Annie's traumatic experiences...while it tears me up to hurt my characters, she has had some pretty bad ones. We'll be learning more about that in later chapters. In response to your question, I'm planning on making Finnick around seventeen in this story, less than a year older than Annie._**

 **EmberLex:**

 ** _Yay! That makes me super happy that I portrayed the characters correctly. Enjoy the chapter!_**

* * *

I was turning away from my locker when I saw him. Hands in his jean pockets, his sunburned arm faded to a soft pink, leaning against the opposite wall with his head tilted to one side. Staring at me. Again.

Finnick Odair.

It had been over a week since I had first seen him in the principal's office. I had heard a lot about him in the days since, mainly from conversations I couldn't help but listen in on. It was 'Finnick and swimming' this, or 'Finnick and my-teenage-hormones' that. The latter came mostly from the female population, although it was just yesterday I had listened to a pair of male sophomores base an entire discussion around his abs, which were apparently worthy enough to be compared to Chris Hemsworth's.

From what I could tell, he was popular. Very. And here he was, standing across a crowded hallway, his eyes on me.

My first thought was to just walk away. To pretend I hadn't seen him and continue with my day. But I didn't. Instead, I stared back.

A crooked smile appeared on his face. Usually, that would be a very good sign that someone was about to have a stroke, but I could tell he was being intentional about it. Like having an uneven smile made you someone special. Ha.

Then next thing I knew, Finnick was pushing off from the wall and cutting through the crowded hallway. The students parted easily for him and before I had time to do anything but watch, he was standing next to me.

"You're Annie Cresta," he said in way of greeting.

He was tall. Much taller than I remembered. But I was also on the tall side, so I only had to tilt my head back slightly to look up at him.

"I know," I answered. My fingers twisted a figure eight knot into my rope. And then another. And another.

He leaned against the row of lockers, keeping his body facing mine. "See, most people around here have trouble remembering your name. They call you 'Crazy Cresta' or 'The Mad Girl.' Almost half of what I hear these days is about the girl with the rope, the one who covers her ears if the class laughs to loud or the bell rings too suddenly."

His eyes flicked down to my rope, then back up at me. "Annie's not that hard of a name to remember," he finished.

I frowned up at him, doing my best to ignore the startling color of his sea green eyes. "Do you really think it's their memory that's the problem?"

Finnick gave me an appraising look. "All right. Maybe it's because they're assholes."

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You are," I said, covering my mouth and shaking my head.

"Enlighten me."

How on earth could I explain it to him? "Finnick Odair, you are the only student that has ever talked to me like I'm a sane person. Like I'm not crazy. But it's okay. You don't have to pretend."

Suddenly all I wanted to do was go to the apartment and take a long nap. I gave him a half smile, shut my locker, and began walking away.

He caught up with me easily. Falling into step beside me, he asked, "do you think you are?"

First staring, and now he was walking with me? Wasn't that against the school hierarchy rules or something?

"That I'm what?" I asked.

The hallway branched off into three. I chose the left one, which would lead to a exit side door.

Finnick gave me a sideways glance. "Do you think you're crazy?"

The question was so random, so unexpected, that I stopped in my tracks. Finnick kept walking and had to double back once he realized I wasn't.

Did I think I was crazy? There was no question about it. "Of course. Everyone else says so. How can I not be?"

He cocked his head to one side. "So...let me get this right. Because other people say you're mad, you believe them?"

"Yes...I mean no...I mean, it's a lot more complicated than that."

He smiled that stupid crooked smile of his. "Enlighten me," he said, repeating his earlier phrase.

Suddenly I was angry. I held up my rope and let it dangle in between us. "Do you see this?" I asked him.

His green eyes flicked from the rope and then back at me. He nodded.

"Finnick, this rope is the only thing that's keeping me from having a panic attack. I see things other people don't. Things that aren't really there." I swallowed, remembering the night when the apple turned to blood. I fixed my gaze on the gray walls behind him, relieved that they stayed gray. "Sometimes there are voices in my head that won't go away." I switched my gaze back to him. "They just stay there, where no one but me can hear them, and whisper. Do you know what they tell me?"

It was with a sense of triumph that I saw unease flicker in Finnick's eyes. I smiled. "They tell me I'm crazy," I said. "They tell me I'm insane." I took a step back from him and wound my rope around my wrist. "So to answer your question, yes. I do believe it when I'm told I'm crazy. Everybody else is right. I'm the craziest person in this school. Or do you still disagree?"

He didn't answer.

I sighed, shook my head, and started walking again. His voice stopped me a moment later. I paused, but didn't turn around.

"I don't think you're crazy," he said

"Why?" My voice was flat, dull, emotionless. I waited for his response, but it didn't come. When the silence stretched on, I turned back to look at him. I expected to see a stumped look on his face, or one of defeat, but it wasn't there. Instead, he had his head tilted to one side and a knowing expression on his face.

"Because, Annie Cresta," he said, "you are the only person in this school who truly knows how crazy you are. And that makes you the sanest person I have ever met." He gave me a crooked smile. "I'll see you around...Annie."

And then he's gone. And I was left standing alone in an empty hallway, gripping a rope with three figure eight knots, and completely lost.

* * *

 **I suppose this was for of a** **philosophical Finnick than a Flirtatious Finnick...but I feel that a lot of the times in fan fiction, authors only explore the flirty side of him, which paints him as a very one dimensional character. Also, I just got done reading 'The Fault in our Stars,' so I was probably super inspired by Augustus Waters' character when I wrote this. Hopefully I did an okay job...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to all those who followed/favorited!**

 **TheMockingjaySerpent; dontreallycare1924**

 **Lex:**

 ** _I know! I hate it when Finnick is portrayed as a flirty idiot. I mean, yes, he does flirt, and yes, he is a bit of an idiot, but there's so much more to him that that! Hopefully you didn't want to slap him when you read this story... ;)_**

 **TheMockingjaySerpent:**

 ** _Aw, thank you so much! Your review made my day! And BTW, I totally agree with you about the summary. I'm so bad at writing them...ugh, it took me half an hour to even get that thing out, and it's horrible! Oh well, I'm glad you were able to see past it and read the story. Sorry it's not Everlark focused, but Odesta is a perfect ship in my opinion. :)_**

 **NOTE: If you want any other characters or pairings in this story, just shoot me a pm/review and I'll try to get them in.**

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, there was a note from Flavius and Venia saying they were out shopping and that I should help myself to cereal for breakfast.

Typical.

Our supply of cereal was depressing—a half empty box of grape nuts and a handful of stale cornflakes—so I chose to skip breakfast and head straight to school.

It was dark outside, the sidewalks icy with unsalted frost, the sun still an hour away from rising. I gripped my rope tightly and made sure to take note of every person around me. No one bothered me though, so I ended up at school fifteen minutes later no worse for wear, other than the fact that I couldn't feel my hands or feet.

The hallways were steadily filling up with students when I walked in. Groups of friends laughing. People sitting against lockers doing homework. A blonde cheerleader, her hair in ringlets, pushing a boy against a locker as they kissed. Specifically, my locker.

"Um...excuse me," I said. Her mouth remained glued to the boy's. I tapped her on the shoulder. "Can you move?" I asked loudly.

She surfaced with a sound like a squelching plunger. "What do you think you're—" She paused as she took me in. "Craz-I mean, Cresta? You can talk?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Obviously."

"Geez," said the boy who had been pushed against the locker, "we all thought you were mute or something."

I didn't really know what to say to that, so I just stared at him. He looked increasingly uncomfortable. "Um…" he said. "Do...what do you…"

"You're in front of my locker," I said.

"Oh!" His face showed relief. "Oh, right." He quickly moved to the side.

"Come on," the cheerleader said haughtily. "We can go somewhere more private."

"Sorry, Glimmer," the boy said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I should probably get going." He gave her a smile and quickly departed.

"Your name's Glimmer?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. It was an odd name, one I had never heard before.

One of Glimmer's eyes twitched. The tick was further enhanced by her silver eyeshadow, which, true to her name, glimmered underneath the florescent lights of the school. "Thanks a lot, Crazy Cresta," she snapped, and then she too was gone.

Oops.

* * *

After classes, I headed to Portia's office as usual, only to find a note taped to a closed door.

 _Got a call and had to run. BRB in 30. Hang until I get back. -Portia_

The writing was messy and scrawled, like she had been in a big hurry.

I had no interest in sitting in the nursery—which Portia still hadn't had time to fix, though she apologized profusely for it—so I turned around and went back the way I came. Principal Snow said I couldn't eat in the cafeteria, but he hadn't said anything about outside. And as long as I went to Portia's for the last half of the hour, I wouldn't technically be breaking his rule. I dropped my backpack off at my locker, grabbed my lunch and Portia's loaned book, Twilight, and headed outside to the field behind the school.

Apart from two or three small clusters of students scattered here and there, the field was empty. I spotted a tall tree with a wide trunk, crossed the field, sat down with my back against it, and settled in to read. The sun was filtering through the bare branches at the perfect spot: not enough to blind me, but at just the right angle to trickle onto my page and light the words.

I was just getting to the part where Bella was being rescued from a sliding truck and held in the loving—or, in my opinion, downright violating—embrace of the vampire love interest Edward, when a shadow fell over me.

"Is that Twilight?" Finnick asked, taking a bite out of a yellow skinned apple. He was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt with the school mascot: a small bird with its wing outstretched. I didn't understand why they would want a bird as their symbol, seeing as the animal didn't exactly inspire terror, but it was there nonetheless. White with black patches on its wings. A mockingjay.

I held up my book. "Can you move?" I asked. "You're blocking the light."

"Is my beaming presence not giving off enough light for you? I can turn it up if you want." Without waiting for a response, he sat down next to me, stretched his long legs out, and took another bite of the apple.

I furrowed my brow at yet another one of his unexpected decisions, but since he didn't say anything else, I went back to reading. At least, I tried. It was hard to do so when I knew his eyes were on me. That, and loud crunching sound that came every time he took a bite of his apple.

 _Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

"Will you stop it?" I finally exclaimed.

"Stop what?" he asked a shade too innocently. A smirk was tugging at the corner of his lips as I watched them. Not that I was...watching them or anything. They just happened to be there when I looked up.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"My dear Annie Cresta," Finnick said, putting a hand on his chest, "it offends me greatly that you would think I would be here for any other reason than the joy of your company."

I raised an eyebrow. "Spit it out." I took my rope and began to tie knots in the flexible cord, but I kept my eyes level with his.

"Very well," he conceded. "I may have happened to see you leaving the building with a certain book tucked under your arm...

"And?"

He took another bite of his apple, swallowed, and then tucked the core into his sweatshirt pocket before turning back to me. "Annie Cresta, you—like many before—have fallen under the bewitching spell of what I consider to be the worst book in all existence. I was coming to warn you of its terrible plot, bad characters, and overall appalling qualities before you got sucked in too deep."

I laughed. "You're serious?"

"Absolutely."

I shifted positions, tucking my legs beneath me and twisting to my body to face his. "First off, I haven't been sucked into anything. It was given to me by...a friend."

Finnick grinned. "It was Portia, wasn't it. Who else would it be?"

I blinked. The coldness of his words shocked me. Did he really think I didn't have any friends? Not that he was wrong, but to say it like that...I scowled and shut my book, then made to get up.

"Wait!"

I didn't. I began walking away.

"Annie!" He caught up with me. Curse his long legs. "Annie, that didn't come out right."

"You don't say." I kept walking.

"Annie." He darted in front of me and began walking backward when I didn't stop. "I only meant that Portia would be the kind of person who would recommend that book. Because she's into vampires and all that. Hell, she even tried to give me a copy."

That pulled me up short. "How do you know Portia?"

"She's the school counselor."

"Yeah, but…" As far as I knew, most students saw Portia every few months, to adjust their schedules or whatever. Only a fraction of the kids who went to this high school met with her as patients on a regular basis.

He seemed to follow my train of thought. "Once a week," he said. "It's no big deal." He crossed his arms—one tan and the other a light shade of pink still healing from the sunburn—and gave me a smile, but I could tell something was off about it. I was about to ask him what when there was a shout behind him.

A muscular boy with olive skin and dark hair was standing across the field. I recognized him as one of Finnick's friends, Gale. He was a senior on the football team and hung out with the same people Finnick did. I'd seen them joking in the hallways or wrestling playfully with each other.

Gale yelled something again, but he was too far away to understand. He raised a hand and motioned for Finnick.

Finnick raised a finger and turned back to me. "Listen, I gotta go. Two things, though." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, then scribbled something on it and handed it to me. "My friends and I are meeting to go ice skating later today—

I suddenly had a ridiculous image of Gale in his football uniform, doing pirouettes on the ice, accompanied by several of the cheerleaders who Finnick also hung out with. I had supposed the popular kids idea of fun was passing around a bottle of liquor, but maybe dancing on ice had come into season.

"—and then heading to a party afterward. Will you come?"

Ah. There it was.

"You want _me_ to hang out with _you_?" I asked. I left the remaining part unsaid, but both of us must have known what it was. He had dozens of people he could go with. Why invite me, the girl he had only met yesterday?"

"Well," he said, "that was the point of the question. You game?"

I thought about it. Unless watching three hours of prerecorded 'Cupcake Wars' counted as plans—which it didn't—or staying up to see if Flavius and Venia would be home by midnight—which they wouldn't be—I was completely free. Like usual. And it had been over two years since I had actually hung out with people for fun. What harm could it be?

I knew the answer to that question. I knew what a disaster it could be to go ice skating with a group of people who called me 'Crazy Cresta,' and then to a party where there was sure to be drinking and other activities, ones that would make Effie's voice squeak higher than a bat's if she found out I went. But it wasn't like Flavius and Venia cared. It wasn't like Portia would know. It wasn't like I had any excuse besides being crazy that I couldn't go. I shouldn't. I shouldn't. And yet...

I didn't have to go to the party. I could just go ice skating.

"All right," I said finally. "I'll go."

Finnick grinned. "Awesome. Time and place is on the paper. Gotta run."

"Finnick!" I called after him.

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"What was the second thing?"

"Oh, right." He pointed at the book under my arm. "Don't get obsessed. Don't become Portia. Promise?"

I couldn't help myself. I smiled. "Promise."

* * *

Portia's office was already occupied when I walked in. Usually when students came in, I would just head to one of the other rooms behind the kitchen and wait for them to leave. Unfortunately, this girl was leaning against the kitchen counter, blocking the hallway that held the doors. Even worse, it was Johanna.

Johanna was a tall asian with combat boots, black skinny jeans, a leather jacket, and a temper as short and spiky as her hair. I had heard the stories about her. Last year, she had become infamous when she kicked a teacher in the groin for calling her a 'hopeless punk case' and sent him to the hospital. The teacher got a two week leave. Johanna got a restraining order and a reputation so feared no one dared to stand within three feet of her.

She was holding a bloodstained towel up to her nose—which was also covered in blood—but tossed it aside when I entered the room. She smirked as I froze like a deer in headlights.

"What's up, Cresta?" she said tauntingly. "Did somebody hurt your feelings? Are you running to Portia so she can make it all better?"

I gripped my rope and resisted the urge to put my hands over my ears to block her out. It would only make things worse. "No," I said in as steady a voice as I could manage.

"No," she repeated. She wiped away a trickle of blood with the sleeve of her jacket. I stared at the blood, fascinated by the deep color of of the liquid. So deep. So red. So...I shook the thoughts from my head and forced myself to look away. I didn't want to remember. I couldn't.

"Afraid to look at me?" Johanna sneered. She pushed herself off from the counter and stood up to her full height. "Am I not good enough for you? Because Crazy Cresta's above other people, right? She doesn't have to deal with them. She doesn't even _understand_ what they're saying about her. She can just live in sweet, blissful ignorance. Isn't that right?"

My hands were shaking. I wanted to scream at her that I knew what they were saying about me, that I knew every goddamned thing they whispered behind my back, that I hated them, that there was only one person who even called me Annie Cresta and not some cruel nickname, and that I was going ice skating with him later today…

My hands were over my ears. I was on the ground. Crouched. Head held between my knees, elbows braced against my thighs. The rope digging into my skin. Blocking it out. Blocking it all out…

"Annie!"

Portia's voice broke through my mental haze. She rushed into the room and knelt in front of me. There was an ice pack in her hand. "Annie?" Her voice was different. More serious. More in control. "Johanna, what happened?"

Johanna shrugged. "I just told her the truth," she said, but it lacked the venom that accompanied her previous words.

Portia put a hand on my shoulder and began to murmur quietly to me. I didn't even know what she was saying, but eventually I lowered my hands and managed to breath at a normal rate. "I'm okay," I mumbled. "I'm okay."

Standing up, Portia turned Johanna with a fierceness I had never seen before. Usually she was laid back, almost like a lazy cat. Now, a tiger would be a better description. "Listen up, Mason," she said, stalking forward and slamming the ice pack on the counter. "You may have had a shitty day, but that doesn't mean you can talk to my other patients that way. Got it?"

Johanna glared back at her. Her nose was still bleeding. "Fine," she snarled. "Try to protect her. It won't do any good."

Portia didn't back down. "Take the ice pack. Back room. We'll talk later."

Johanna threw me a look of deep loathing before grabbing the ice pack, stomping to one of the doors in the short hallway, and slamming it behind her.

Portia sighed and ran hand over her face. "I'm sorry, Annie," she said. "Johanna hasn't had the best day. Or the best year, to be honest."

I think of the blood on her face. "What happened?" I asked.

"The usual. Got in a fight." She walked over to the fridge and took out a Coke. "Some guys were hitting on her and she decided to take offense."

"Oh." I didn't really know what to say. I'd never been 'hit on' before—come to think of it, Finnick was the first person my age I'd even talked to in months, and that was only because he probably found me amusing or something. However, I did know that getting into a fistfight was not a person's usual response to flirting.

"Anyway," Portia said. "What's going on with you? Any plans for the weekend?"

I debated telling her about Finnick's invitation but decided against it. Portia wasn't as protective as Effie, but if she had heard wind about the afterparty, she would assume I was going and make me stay home, even though I planned to be at the apartment long before the party started.

I settled on a neutral answer. "Just reading." I held up Twilight and Portia's face lit up. A perfect distraction.

When the bell rang, I said goodbye and made to leave.

"Annie, wait!" Portia called out. I turned back. She was looking at me with something close to concern. "Be safe, okay? Promise?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

And then I left.

* * *

 **Oh my gosh I love these characters. I had a super fun time writing all of them, Johanna especially. It's so awesome writing out all her little sardonic comments. :) This is the first time I've written a Finnick/Annie story, so I'm still getting the hang of writing them together, but hopefully I'm doing okay. Again, I'm totally open to suggestions, whether it be about my writing, plot, or anything else.**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**It's finally up! I don't know why, but this chapter was so hard to write! I'm super sorry for any typos or mistakes, but I'm too tired to do a full editing session on this chapter. Let me know if there are any mistakes and I can fix them.**

 **Quick note: I'm taking one of my other stories off of hiatus (finally) and putting a lot of time and effort into rewriting it, so the next update for this story might be a bit later than usual because of the time put into the other one. I still need to outline, write, edit, and work on the plot of this story, so bear with me here. ;) But the next one should come within the next few weeks. Thank you so much for all your reviews and support!**

 **TheMockingjaySerpent:**

 _ **I was actually planning on having Everlark in this, so that's an absolute yes to your request! (They're such a cute pairing. *Squeal!*) At first, I thought the boy would be either Cato or Marvel, like you guessed, but when I started writing chapter five he came out as someone else….but I think you'll like who it is. ;)**_

 **Lex:**

 _ **I'm very glad to hear that Finnick in this story is undeserving of a slap. ;) And yes, I too agree with Finnick on Twilight...usually I would say that my character's opinion is not my opinion, but in this case...well, it totally is.**_

 **Camillie103:**

 _ **Here's the ice skating trip! Johanna isn't in this chapter, but she should make an appearance in the next one. God, I love that character. She's so fun to write!**_

 **Doraviolet1:**

 _ **Thank you so much! There's a lot more of Finnick in this chapter, so we should see a lot of Annie/Finnick interaction. Enjoy!**_

 **One more thing...I really don't want to make Glimmer into that stereotypical popular girl that hates the main character for no reason….but that's exactly what I'm going to do, so sorry for the cliche. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

The walk to the outdoor rink was farther than I was used to, about a half hour away from the apartment. I fashioned my rope into a miniature noose—it was too short for a full sized one—and quickened my pace when the large rink came into view. It was ringed by metal railing, with several park benches placed here and there outside. Nearby, a vender sold cups of hot beverages, while another handed out ice skates in exchange for donations.

And the ice...oh, the ice! Just the sight of it sent memories swirling through my head: skating for long hours, spinning around and around as my parents cheered on the sidelines, mastering a particularly complicated move and basking in the praise my tutors gave me...

"Hello, Annie Cresta," said a voice to my right. "Nice scarf."

I didn't have to turn to see who it was. The voice was familiar enough by now. "I can't take any credit, but I'm sure the factory would be pleased to hear it," I said as Finnick fell into step beside me.

He grinned. "Yes, but you were the one who noticed how good you look in turquoise and bought it. Doesn't that mean you can take some credit?"

"Maybe," I hedged, doing my best to ignore the thumping of my heart that came with his compliment. I also failed to mention that it had been Effie who bought the scarf. "Where are the rest of your friends?"

He gestured vaguely in the direction of the ice rink. "Cato and Glimmer and a few of the others are out there, Peeta's around somewhere, and Finch is probably fighting off hypothermia with hot chocolate."

At the name Glimmer, I followed his gaze to see the girl whose kissing session I had interrupted this morning. She was skating around, holding hands with a tall, hulking boy—not the one she was kissing this morning—who looked like a pro wrestler, and laughing at something he said.

Great. I bet she'll be thrilled to see me again.

"Speaking of cold," Finnick said, "how are you not freezing? You're dressed like it's summer."

Though it was an exaggeration, he still had a point. I had my scarf—as Finnick had pointed out—and a light winter jacket that was zipped up to my throat, but compared to everyone else who were bundled up thick coats, gloves, boots, and earmuffs, I was severely under dressed.

"The cold doesn't really bother me," I admitted. Yes, it had been almost two years since I had been on the ice, but most of my childhood had been spent skating around on rinks in low temperatures. I guess my body had just gotten used to it.

"Well, I'm freezing," Finnick admitted. "I'm going to go take a leaf out of Finch's book and get us some hot chocolate. Grab us a bench?"

I nodded and he left, jogging away to the vender selling drinks.

I still didn't know what to make of Finnick. He was popular, good looking, talented, and had a large group of friends. And here he was, standing in line to get us hot chocolate before we went ice skating. What were his motives? Why was he doing this?

I didn't know, but I decided to push the thoughts away and go find a bench like he had said.

All of them were already claimed. My gaze paused over one at the very end, where a single figure that looked slightly familiar was slumped, staring at the ground. It took a moment for me to place the stocky build and messy curls, but eventually I recognized him as the boy Glimmer had been kissing this morning, right before I had interrupted them. A glance at the ice rink showed me that Glimmer was still holding hands with the pro wrestler.

Even though the bench was occupied, I found myself walking toward the curly haired boy. Maybe it was the way he was scuffing the ground with his toe, or how he looked up every few seconds at Glimmer and the boy, and how his face fell even more every time he did.

"Hey," I said once I was in front of him.

The boy looked up, confusion written on his face before he placed me. "Oh, hey," he said. "Annie, right? The girl from this morning?"

I was pleasantly surprised to hear my first name. "Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn't mean to..." I trailed off, wondering if my interrupting had anything to do with why Glimmer was on the ice rink with another boy instead of him.

He seemed to pick up on my train of thought. "It's not your fault," he assured. "We were only together a few days. And anyway, once she found out about this—" Reaching down, he pulled the left leg of his jeans up, revealing a prosthetic leg. "—she officially ended it. Wouldn't want to sit with a cripple on the sidelines if you could be out there with _him,"_ he added, a bitter note entering his mellow voice.

"Well, they're just holding hands for now," I said in an attempt to comfort him. "It's not like—"

The boy nodded at the ice rink. Glimmer now had her lips pressed to the wrestler's. As I watched, she broke apart from him, held up a finger, and then skated a short distance away, where she proceeded to complete a flawless axel jump before skating back to him. The people around them broke into applause as they kissed again.

I officially sucked at comforting sad people.

"Sorry," I muttered again. I didn't want to watch Glimmer anymore—she was obviously a figure skater, and I didn't need another reminder of what had been taken from me—so I fixed my gaze on his prosthetic leg instead and tried to find something to say. "Nice, um...leg, by the way."

I was willing to lose a leg of my own to get out of this conversation. Now I was realizing why I didn't go up and talk to people all that often.

He laughed. "Thanks. Do you want to touch it?"

"What?"

"Most people want to feel it," he explained. "You're welcome to try."

I crouched down by his leg and hesitantly put a hand on it, right where his calf would have been. The cold from the metal leached into my skin, sending chills down my back.

"I'm Peeta, by the way," the boy said. "Peeta Mellark."

I was about to respond when Finnick's teasing voice came from above. "You two are moving fast, aren't you?"

Retracting my hand from the metal leg, I quickly stood up and distanced myself by several feet. Peeta rolled his eyes at Finnick as he tugged his pant leg down. "Only you would find something scandalous with a missing limb," he said dryly. He accepted Finnick's outstretched hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"What can I say, Peeta? Metal can be quite arousing." Finnick winked at me and held out a cup of hot chocolate that steamed the air around it. "Here's your drink," he said.

"Thank you," I said, touched by the offer. My appreciation was greatly diminished when he held the drink out of my reach.

"One condition," he said. "Will you teach me to ice skate?"

"You don't know how?" I asked, surprised.

Peeta laughed. "Annie, you're looking at the man who can't stand up without falling over his own feet. Trust me, putting him on ice will be ten times worse."

"Hey," Finnick said, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. "You're looking at the state champion swimmer of last year. And ice is technically water. How hard can it be?"

* * *

It turned out to be very hard. Borderline impossible, actually.

Finnick clung to the side of the ice rink, panting hard after his third fall in a row. He had been on the ice less than five minutes. "Will you hurry up and get out here?" he called to me.

I finished tying my ice skates and stood up. "One second," I called, then quickly fastened my rope into a bracelet and slipped it onto my wrist.

Once I was on the ice, I skated easily over to him, unable to resist the urge to do a spin before pulling up sharply. He stared at me in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

I shrugged. "Beginner's luck."

He snorted. "Yeah, right. You, Annie Cresta, have been on the ice before." He attempted to stand up on his own, but quickly grabbed at the wall again when he slipped.

"I used to take lessons," I said.

"Were you good?" he asked, managing to right himself.

"I was okay," I said vaguely.

The truth was, I was good. Really good. My parents had started the lessons when I was barely four years old. It had led to over a decade of being on the ice, learning, practicing, perfecting the skill. I was doing competitions every month, and winning them too. My tutor had even said that a year or two more of training could lead to the Olympics.

Then the training stopped. No more ice skates, pretty costumes, or expensive tutors. No more of anything.

Finnick's laughter snapped me back to reality. That was another one of my problems. Unconsciously zoning out for long periods of time. "I don't believe you for a second," he said. "I can barely stand up in these things, and you just managed to do a full spin. What else can you do?"

"It's been a while since I've been on the ice," I said. "I'm out of practice."

He gestured to the ice. "Then how about you get in practice?"

Across the ice, Glimmer completed another perfect move. More applause came from her small audience. Finnick followed my gaze. "She's a figure skater," he said. "She's always doing competitions and things like that. Is that what you did? Figure skating?"

"Yeah," I murmured, my eyes still on Glimmer. "I haven't done any competitions in almost two years, though."

"Why did you stop?"

Why did I stop? The question bounced around my head, demanding to be acknowledged.

"I...I just...there was something…" I stammered, unable to get more than three words out. "I need some space," I blurted out. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not," Finnick said, though I could see the disappointment on his face. I ignored it.

Moving away from the wall, I began skating around the rink, dodging easily between the other people. As I passed by, Glimmer completed another axel jump. I had done the same move dozens of times, perfected in under the watchful eye of my tutor. I could still remember the rush of adrenaline, the whip of the cold air, the euphoria when I landed right.

I had never wanted to stop. Had never wanted to give up what I thought was going to be my future. What my past, my present, my entire self was, what I centered everything in my life around.

Then my parents died.

It had been two years ago. Just a single week before the competition that would decide whether or not I would attempt for the next winter olympics.

As usual, I had spent the day on the ice, skating and spinning and practicing for the competition with my tutor. The lesson went well, better than usual, but I was annoyed because my parents had never showed up, even though they said they would.

After the lesson, I called them again and again. No answer. So I decided to take the bus home. My parents had always told me to never take the bus alone, but they weren't there to pick me up, and I was mad at them, so I did it anyway.

All the lights were on when I got home. This only increased my anger, because it meant that my parents were there and had completely forgotten about me. I pushed open the door and stomped into the living room, where I was sure they would be, determined to make them pay for breaking their promise.

That's when the smell hit.

I had smelled small amounts of blood before—from regular scrapes and cuts, when my cousin sliced himself with a knife while chopping vegetables, from my period—but none of it could have ever prepared me for this stench. Thick, metallic, rotten, and mixed with some sort of sickly sweet odor.

"Mom?" I called out. My voice cracked. "Dad?"

No answer.

So I walked into the room.

They were there. On the floor. Their limbs splayed, eyes glassy, bodies soaked in the blood still trickling from three bullet holes in their necks.

So. Much. Blood.

I dropped to the floor next to them. I didn't cry. My parents were dead in front of me, and yet I couldn't bring myself to cry. "Mom?" I whispered again. "Dad?" I gripped my mother's hand—clammy and cold—and squeezed it as tightly as I could. "Please wake up. Please, please wake up."

They weren't asleep. I knew that. But still I begged them, pleaded, until eventually I was screaming at them, screaming for them to wake up, to get up and be my parents and not these cold, stiff corpses that resembled them so much.

There was something else. Roses. Two of them. Placed with utmost care on my parent's chests, their once pure white petals stained with red. And the smell. The thick, sickly sweet smell so different from the blood. It was coming from the flowers.

The neighbors must have heard me and called the police, because officers showed up a half hour later. By that time my voice was hoarse from screaming, my body covered in their blood. They had to drag me away. Out of the house. Out of the neighborhood. Out of the place where my parents lay, three bullet holes in their necks, dead.

Eavesdropping on the officers told me that they knew who the murderer was. He had already claimed the lives of over a dozen other civilians. Though each case was different, there was always one thing in common: a single rose laid on each of the victims.

Even now, two years later, they still haven't found him.

I met Effie two hours later. She brought me a fresh set of clothes and let me use her shower. Then she took me to Baskin Robbins, where she explained that I was going to be placed in foster care, in a nice home where nice people would take care of me.

The first people weren't nice. Or the second. In the third home, I began having nightmares. Seeing the blood. Feeling my mother's cold hand. Smelling the roses. The couple whose home I was in woke up to me screaming, flailing wildly, the sheets twisted around my body. They shouted at me and tried to get me to calm down, but nothing worked. I lashed out at them when they approached. Hit and kicked and bit them when they touched me. Sobbed when they picked me up, tossed me in the back of their car, drove for an hour, and admitted me to the psych ward where Effie found me a week later.

And so started the long repetition of changing homes. Schools. Shifting around. Some lasted for a couple months. Others only a few days. Whatever the time period, it always ended with people telling Effie I was too much, that they couldn't handle me, and to put me somewhere else.

So she did.

Figure skating stopped after they died. There was no money for lessons. No time for anyone to drive me. Too much moving around, not enough stability.

I never did the competition. The one that would have decided my future. And anyway, I didn't need it to. Seeing my parents dead bodies had done that already.

My thoughts were so scattered, I wasn't even aware of Glimmer until we crashed together. She must have just finished a jump, because she was midbow. The air was forced from my lungs by the impact, and we both fell backward, landing on the ice beneath us.

She was up in an instant.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she gasped. Her eyes, though similar in shade to Finnick's, were filled with none of his usual mirth. Instead, they were widened in anger. "Are you trying to ruin everything you can?"

My lungs were having trouble breathing. My breaths came in short gasps. I could feel myself shaking, my entire body trembling. I tried to scramble backward, but the ice was too slick.

"Well?" Glimmer demanded. "Stop being a bitch and answer me!"

There was a metal band constricting itself around my chest. I curled forward, wrapping my arms around my torso. "Stop...it…" I choked out.

A crowd was gathering now. Glimmer didn't stop. "I have a huge competition coming up," she raged on, "and I can't get injured. You almost ruined everything! Everyone saw what she did, right?"

There were several murmurs of assent.

Too many people. Not enough air. Too much shaking. Trying to get the rope off my wrist. Too tight. Can't get it off. Can't make knots. Can't stay sane. Can't stay here. Hands over ears. Curled into a ball. Cold ice pressed against my cheek. Cold. Cold. Cold. Can't breath. Still...can't...make...it...stop...

"Out of the way!" a familiar voice ordered. "Give her room!"

There was a sound of flesh smacking against ice and a muttered curse. Someone had fallen down.

"Finnick," I wheezed.

He was on his knees beside me. Looking down with anxious eyes but a calm face. "Hey, Annie Cresta," he said, his words clear even though my hands were clamped over my ears. "Can you hear me?"

I still couldn't breath. Couldn't stop the metal band cutting off my air. The shaking of my limbs. "Yes," I managed to get out.

"Okay. Okay, that's good. Listen, I know you're really scared, but this is gonna pass, alright?"

Somewhere in my panicked mind, his words punctured. Yes, this had happened before. And yes, it had always passed. But right now, all I cared about was the band that was hurting me, and all I knew was that I was terrified.

Usually I didn't like people to touch me when this happened. But for some reason, I found myself reaching my hand out for his and saying, "Stay." He gripped my hand. I clutched it like a lifeline.

"I'm staying right here," he said. Still holding my hand, he shifted around so that he was behind me and said, "Do you want me to hold you?"

I must have nodded, because I felt arms pulling me backward until I was half resting on Finnick's lap, my body still curled into a ball. "Focus on my breathing, okay? Can you do that?" He took a deep breath and then exhaled. "Can you do it with me?"

My entire frame was still shaking, but I tried to follow his request. I managed to take one short, shuddering breath before the air was forced from my lungs.

"Good job!" Finnick said above me. "Let's do another one." He inhaled, and I did it with him. This one came out slightly better. We did it again and again, until my lungs were no longer burning and the metal band wasn't quite as restricting. I still couldn't stop the tremors running through my body, though.

"I was at swim practice today," Finnick said once my breathing had returned to normal, "and I managed to get the fastest time on the team. Trust me, I'm a lot better with water when it isn't frozen solid."

A shaky laugh bubbled up in my chest.

"Swimming is a lot warmer than ice skating, too," he continued. "There was one time that we decided to turn up the water temperature as a joke. It was like a gigantic hot tub. When the coach found out, he made us run laps outside in our swim trunks. It was snowing."

I was just watching him now. Every now and then a shudder would wrack my body, but his words were helping me to focus on something else. His green eyes got this faraway look in them when he talked about swimming. His hand was stroking my long hair, pushing it off of my forehead and tucking it behind my ear. I kept watching him as he continued to talk, about swimming, or his family, or about the time he got chased by a crab at the beach.

"Is that where you got your sunburn?" I interrupted. My body had stopped shaking. He looked down at me, surprised.

"Yeah," he said. "We were on vacation in Hawaii a couple weeks ago."

"Oh," I said quietly.

The sky was darkening now; the rink was slowly emptying of people. "Do you want to get up?" Finnick asked.

I let out a shaky breath. "Yeah," I whispered. "Yeah, okay."

My muscles were completely stiff, my joints were screaming in protest when we rose.

"Alright, Annie Cresta," Finnick said once we were up. "As much as I would love to be that knight in shining armour that carries you to safety—" he slipped and clutched my arm for balance. "—I can barely walk myself. Solid water sucks."

I gave another weak laugh. "It's not so bad," I said. Gripping each other for balance, we managed to get across the ice and onto solid ground, where we crossed over to Peeta's bench. I sat down and slowly began untying my shoelaces.

"You okay?" Peeta asked.

I nodded, though I felt anything but okay. My entire body was aching, and it felt as if all the energy had been sapped from my body.

"Oh, come on," said a voice above me. Finnick's friends had gathered around us. Glimmer was glaring down at me. "She's obviously doing it for attention, Finnick," she said, putting a hand on his arm. "You didn't need to stay with her."

Finnick lifted her hand from his arm and stepped away. "Unlike your asinine comments, Glimmer," he said shortly, "a panic attack isn't something you can control. So chill."

Glimmer pressed her lips together. For a moment, I thought she would shout, but then she curved her lips up into some twisted form of a smile. "Of course," she said, her voice dripping with honey. "She must be exhausted. It's probably best if she skips the party and goes home." She turned to address me. "Does that sound good, Cresta?" she asked in a slow voice you might use with a toddler.

Finnick looked down at me. "I can take you home," he said. There was something in his voice. Disappointment? Regret? "If that's what you want."

I did want to go home. To crawl up in bed and fall asleep and forget this ever happened. What had made me think I would be able to do this? The words formed on my lips, ready to fall, just before I caught sight of Glimmer's face. Cold. Triumphant. Smiling in a way you can only do if you know you've won.

"I'll go," I said, my eyes locked on Glimmer, who now looked as if she had sucked on a lemon. "I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Finnick checked.

I smiled at Glimmer. "Positive."

"Let's get going, then," Peeta said. The group began drifting away to the parking lot.

Finnick held out a hand to me. I accepted it, letting him pull me to my feet. "You're sure about this?" he asked again.

I nodded. "I can do it."

I would do anything to see that self satisfied smirk wiped off of Glimmer's perfect face.

And anything to distract myself from the surfaced memories I had tried so hard to bury.

* * *

 **Whew! That was a long chapter!**

 **We finally know Annie's backstory, and have established that she had a past in figure skating (Hint: it will be a big part of the plot). In the books, her strength was swimming, but since I had Finnick doing that already, I thought ice skating would work well for her. After all, it is a form of water. ;)**

 **There was also a panic attack written in here. I've never had one before, but I did a lot of research to make it as realistic as possible. E.g., shortness of breath, shaky body, etc;**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked it! Review if you did! Constructive criticism is welcome.**


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